“Hi, Nell, Merry Christmas...” a friendly voice said.
I looked up, surprised, and realized my visitor was Pastor Dave, the lead pastor at my parent’s close-knit Lutheran church. In the past, I’d allowed myself and Charlie to be steered to services a few times a summer as a sort of perfunctory duty. When I did so, I tried to melt into the pew and escape as much notice as possible, so people didn’t get any crazy expectations that we might show up every Sunday. That wouldn’t be quite as possible in this setting, I realized sheepishly.
“Oh hello, same to you,” I said with as much faux cheer as I could muster.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Oh, I minded, I minded a lot. I bit back the words and gestured toward the empty chair instead.
“I knew you were in town; your parents have been so excited. I didn’t think I’d get to see you before tomorrow, though, so this is a nice surprise,” he said.
I fought to contain my grimace. Tomorrow, meaning Christmas Eve. My presence at services was apparently just assumed. I smiled tightly and just gave a small nod, which I hoped could be read as either an affirmation or as regrets. I still hadn’t made up my mind about services.
Surprisingly, Pastor Dave turned out to be a pretty good conversationalist as he deftly shifted the conversation to his own recent visit to Virginia and a rather glowing account of the state’s place in the nation’s history. I found myself relaxing and engaging, and my guard slowly lowered. That was when he struck.
“You know I was so sorry to hear about Charlie. I didn’t know him well, but what I did know sure impressed me.”
“Mhmm, thank you,” I said stiffly.
“I suppose you’ve had your fill of hearing he’s in a better place,” he said gently.
Under the table, my hands were clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
“I have,” I said quietly.
He stared at me for a moment, and I noticed for the first time just how kind his eyes were. I’m not sure if it was the kindness I saw, or perhaps it was the manic Christmas energy I’d been forced into since arriving, or if maybe it was just time, but before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Why? Why do you think he’s in a better place? He was pretty happy you know, healthy, had plenty of friends, a nice home. I could get it if he’d been very sick or lived in a terrible environment, but he wasn’t.”
He nodded. “It’s a tough pill to swallow. I suppose the best I can offer is even the best life here in this world is imperfect. There will always be pain to be found, and of course, I believe our worldly separation from God always leaves us, even the happiest of us, with an unquenchable yearning that cannot be filled. Only after death can we finally unite with him, and only then can we know absolute, true happiness.”
I thought about it for a moment, wondering if I should confess I wasn’t sure I believed in God at all, but I suspected it wouldn’t change a thing about what he was saying, and I was suddenly curious.
“Do you think God had a plan, and this was part of it?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a joyful smile. Instead, it was tinged with sadness.
“No, no, I don’t. I think this is where all that free will comes into play. The boy who did this terrible thing, it was his plan, not God’s. But I do believe when it happened, He was there to welcome those children home, and he’s still there to bring healing to the hearts of everyone who was so hurt and devastated.”
I stared down at my empty plate; I wasn’t sure how to respond to him. I didn’t feel offended by his words, they were lovely sentiments and part of me wished I could believe them in their entirety. I settled on offering him my own weak smile and saying, “Thank you, that's a nice thought.”
We moved to the much lighter topic of weather, something every Michigander became obsessed with this time of year. How bad would winter get, how long would it last, and when would spring actually arrive? I confessed winter weather had set me on a search of Southern colleges. I wasn’t built for these days. He mentioned everyone’s recent disappointment when an overnight snowfall hadn’t even delayed school, and I laughed.
“So, where I live, if we get an inch of snow, school closes down for a week. Once, when Charlie was in fourth grade, they cancelled before a single flake even fell and then the storm bypassed us completely. He spent the next two winters glued to the television during the weather report because he thought if they mentioned snow, school would be cancelled.”
Pastor Dave smiled back, and I felt heady and strange, because it hit me this never happened. I never shared stories out loud about Charlie that made me laugh. Until now, I’d either avoided talking about him at all or mentioned him only in reverent, somber ways. I felt lighter, like the feeling you get at the dentist’s office when they lift the heavy lead apron off of you after an x-ray.
“Everything okay?” he asked, at the look on my face.
Was everything okay? Not exactly. I felt like that was a word I’d have to work really hard to accept, but everything was… better?
“Yeah, I’m fine. Pastor, I have to confess, I’m not exactly a believer. I appreciate you taking the time to talk about this all with me, but I’m probably just a hair’s breadth away from calling myself an atheist.”
I thought maybe he’d launch into a sermon at that, but instead, he threw his head back and laughed. “Good, so you’re saying there’s still a chance.” He followed that with a wink. “I hope you make it to Christmas Eve services, Nell; it was so nice bumping into you here.”
I smiled back; it had been kind of nice.
32
Christmas Eve was our jam. We’d followed the same traditions my entire life. Mom served up a huge traditional ham dinner, followed by a sideboard full of pies that none of us really had any room for. We would eat too much; my father would complain his gut hurt, my sister would at some point say something caustic and rude that would make my mother’s chin quiver and Mom would accuse her of trying to ruin Christmas. Then we’d clean the dishes and everyone would forgive Sarah. Then we’d get dressed up, open our gifts and laugh over the gag gifts and cry over the special ones. Then we’d head to midnight services. This year would be the same, but different. This year was most notable for both who wasn’t there and who was there.
I felt Charlie’s absence acutely at the table. I’d never been very gifted in the culinary department, so Grandma’s made from scratch feast was a highlight for him. She always made a ridiculous amount of mashed potatoes, largely because Charlie insisted on filling half his plate with them. This year, she was apparently unwilling to break with tradition because, as usual, a huge bowl of mashed potatoes sat in the middle of the table. I felt my eyes sting a bit when I saw them, but I successfully reigned in the tears that threatened and, with a deep breath, turned to Sarah’s boyfriend, Gus.
“So, Detroit, huh?” I asked amicably. He’d seemed like a nice enough guy, maybe a little too nice for my sister, but he made for a pleasant dinner companion.
“Yep, born and raised and couldn’t wait to get away.”
“I can understand that!” I replied without thinking.
I glanced at my mother, who was giving me a slightly sour look.
“Honestly, Nelly, I don’t know what you wanted to get away from so badly. You love it here. Why you want to be down there with all of that traffic, and those bugs and hurricanes, is beyond me.”
I smiled sweetly and said, “Have you stepped outside today, Mom?”
Sarah snorted and offered me a fist bump across the table. Truthfully, I sort of liked this new older, friendlier Sarah. Since the moment she and Gus had walked in the door, she seemed to have gone out of her way to talk to me and she’d already taken my side in one brief argument with Mom.
My mother would not let go of my earlier comment, though, and I knew it was because she was in full “Bring Nell Home” campaign mode.
“Well, have you given more thought to what we discussed the other day?” She turned to Sarah and said, “Y
our sister is considering moving back! Tell her how fun that would be; you girls could have so much fun together.”
“Mom…” I said.
“I mean, wouldn’t it be ideal for everyone? If you and Gus marry, then Nell would already be around for the shower and dress shopping,” she continued.
“Mother!” Sarah yelled.
I looked beseechingly at my father, who looked suspiciously like he was trying to hold back a laugh, and he shrugged at me. He would be no help; he didn’t dare take sides against my mother and he was probably secretly just as hopeful of my return.
“Mom, I never said I was really considering that. You asked and I said we’d talk later, that doesn’t mean I’m actually considering it. I have a life in Virginia.”
I really hadn’t intended to ruin Christmas Eve; I hadn’t intended to discuss this at all on such an evening. I knew she had been building this entire fantasy in her head and would be crushed with the reality of what I wanted and I’d have loved to have a more graceful, private conversation about it. She’d pushed, though, so it was time for the truth to come out.
“I know you have your organization, but you could have those same goals in this state. Think about it, in a way, it’s even better because you’d be growing what you already started there.”
“And I have friends there, Mom, and don’t say I have friends here too because people who knew me when I was 16 don’t have a clue who I am now. I’ve changed; the people who are in my life now are people who know the person I am today.”
She frowned. “I don’t want you to lose friends, of course, but you could still stay in touch long-distance, the same way you and I do right now. And there are plenty of people in this town you could eventually be close to if you took the time to get to know them. There are also people in this town, men who would like to get to know you. You are still young; you could still meet someone.”
“Oh God, Mom, I’ve already met someone!” I yelled.
Everyone got quiet for a moment. Sarah leaned across the table toward me and cupped the huge smile on her face before poking Gus’s arm in glee. My father’s eyes were darting to my mother, I knew he was trying to decide what reaction he was supposed to have, and she hadn’t given the signal yet. She was just sitting silently, looking at her plate.
Finally, she said, “You met someone? A man?”
“Yes. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”
She took a deep breath and asked in a much calmer voice than I’d expected, “Does he have a name?”
“Morris. Well, Dan. But I call him Morris; it’s a long story.”
“I see. And what country is Morris from?”
Sarah burst out laughing. “Score one, Mom!”
I rolled my eyes. “This country. He’s 42, he’s a cop, divorced with no kids, owns his own home, gets along with my friends, and he’s a nice guy. A legitimate nice guy.”
She finally looked up at me, and I saw tears in her eyes. Oh shit, I’d ruined Christmas. Usually, it was Sarah who did that. She pushed her chair back, stood up, and then, just as I was sure she was about to leave the room, she walked to my end of the table.
“Nelly! I’m so happy for you!” she said as she leaned in to hug me. I looked into her eyes and I realized she was telling the truth; she really was so happy for me.
“Of course, we would love to have you home, but that isn’t why we were pushing for it. I can’t stand the thought of you alone in that house, coming home day after day to silence. I just can’t stand it. This Morris, it’s serious?”
I thought about that. I had thought about it a lot, actually, but I hadn’t said the words out loud until then.
“It’s probably too new to say, but I think it might be,” I admitted.
Her smile widened and she hugged me again. Speaking the words out loud gave them power, and I realized I actually might be open to more with him than I’d realized.
Dinner ended on that happy note, too many presents followed, and then our foray to church where I held my candle during Silent Night and, for just a moment, indulged in a few tears. Overall, it was actually a beautiful holiday, far better than I’d expected. I felt reconnected with my parents and sister, and I suspected I might be invited back before too long to a wedding. Maybe on my next visit, Morris would accompany me. I was ready to go home, though. This time, home meant Richmond.
33
It’s been almost four months since our first coffee date, and things are changing. Morris respected my need for boundaries and gave me the time I needed to work through my fears of allowing someone else into my heart. He wasn’t entirely uncomplicated himself; his ex-wife had left him for another man and he was still a little bruised from that injury. When a few glasses of champagne and a midnight kiss turned into our first walk, hand-in-hand, into his bedroom on New Year’s Eve, we’d begun a whole new stage of the relationship.
That I still call him Morris is a frequent source of humor with my tribe.
“Doesn’t he have a first name?” Lulu had once asked.
“He’s like Madonna or Prince. He only needs one name,” I’d quipped back.
He did actually have a first name, but no one called him that at work and for so many years, work had been his entire life, so that was the name he was most comfortable with. I’d first gotten to know him as Morris, and it was impossible now to think of him as anyone else.
My romantic life isn’t the only thing that’s changed. I’ve decided I need to move forward by going back, back to the city. I currently have a sale contract pending on my house. It was a bittersweet decision, but it was the right one. Charlie and I made so many happy memories in the little ranch house, but there were also enough darker memories stamped on the walls. I feel the need for change. Charlie will be with me, in my memories, wherever I end up. I don’t need to see a daily reminder of an unused bedroom to properly honor him.
Allowing myself to be vulnerable with a man again and planning the sale of my one-time safe haven are just some of the changes. Earlier this morning, I called Ben and asked for a favor. After I explained what needed to be done, he readily agreed. I called my tribe and asked if they’d like to be a part of my moment and without hesitation, each promised to be there. On my way to Powhatan, I stop and pick up the items I seek and then make my way down that long, familiar road to the sanctity of Ben’s farm.
I can see Ronda’s beaten me here; she’s engaged in conversation with Ben in front of his art barn and the two wave. She’s ditched her normal footwear for a pair of comfortable boots, I’m happy to see. Sherry, Lulu, and Angela all arrive together a few minutes later. We greet each other, and there’s no sadness here today. We’re all bundled up against the chill of the late February day, but even Lulu resists complaining about the cold.
Ben leads the way across a field to a cleared spot that houses charred logs and a blanket of old ash. Ronda smiles and hands me the first painting, and I study it for a moment after laying it face up in the pile. The carefree girl on the canvas is a stranger. Her smile is seductive, flirty, and I realize now that it is oh so smug. She doesn’t have stretch marks on her belly; her breasts are small and firm, her golden-brown hair is a thick crown cascading behind her shoulder. She is a girl with her whole life in front of her, and she is completely unafraid.
I lay the second painting over it; the girl is a woman now, her belly huge and round, her breasts much fuller, her face slightly rounder, and her smile is different too. It’s the smile of someone who is excited, but also a little unsure. She’s a woman who knows the endless paths open in the earlier painting, have suddenly and irrevocably narrowed and changed. She is still blessedly naïve about the pain and heartaches that would lie ahead, but it seems there is a hint of trepidation in those eyes.
“Are you sure about this?” Ben asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“I am. These have been sitting in storage for a lot of years now, I just can’t imagine a scenario where I’d ever want to actually display them. I f
eel like I need a clean break. I don’t need to hang onto the ghost of Narek anymore, and I don’t really even need to hang onto her anymore. I’m ready to move on.”
Lulu hands me the lighter fluid, and I go about the business of spraying down the top canvas. Sherry hands me the matches, and after I light one, I smile across at Ronda and drop it purposely onto the target. Smoke rises from the fire, like an offering to the gods of mercy. I follow its progression up toward the docile clouds and feel a sense of peace overtake me as it reaches the heavens. Afterwards, after every bit of wood, and canvas, and paint has disintegrated into the blanket of ash, I hug my tribe and Ben and thank them for being there for me. Finally, I walk purposefully toward my new life.
Once home, I prepare for the special date I’d never dared hope might actually happen. I shower to wash away the smell of smoke, the last of the evidence and then dress casually in jeans and a sweater before heading out again.
This date is a little different. We have a guest joining us. We’d decided to take her to a sushi restaurant, as she’d requested. Sushi is apparently very en vogue for teenagers these days and we wanted to give her the most authentic, Yelp 5-star experience possible. I’ve arrived first and am led to a discreet corner that’s buffeted by a silk screen wall. Traditional Japanese figures are painted on its face, transporting me to another world. The table is low to the ground, chabudai style. I gingerly sit on the gold tapestry of a legless dining chair and await the arrival of Morris and Callie.
I’ve seen pictures of her, Morris has snuck a few to me even though I know he’s not really supposed to, but I haven't spoken to her since the day they saved her. When she walks in the door with Morris, I recognise her from the photos but am still surprised at the changes. Those earlier photos had been of a small, pale, smileless girl. Tiny in stature, she’d looked a few years younger than she actually was. She had short blonde hair, green eyes and tiny elfin ears. The girl who walked in the door was all legs and braces. Her slightly longer hair is pulled back and I can tell from the ears she’s the same person.
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